Drunk Words Sober Thoughts
by ScoobySnake
Summary: Sam and Dean argue. Sam's learned a few things while Dean was in Hell... Like how to down a bottle of whiskey. Angst and brotherly love abounds. Rated for language. 1st story here so reviews and suggestions are appreciated :-)
1. Chapter 1

_disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just borrowing them for a minute from their real owners_

**Chapter 1**

Dean surveyed the mess of people around him. It was ridiculously loud. The music was that techno crap. He briefly considered smashing a speaker in just on principle – this whole place was ruining what could have been a perfectly good drunken night. Not that he was going to get drunk. Not anymore.

When he and Sam had rolled into town early that morning he had every intention of tracking down the nearest bar and slammin' back a few shots of whiskey as soon as they were done working, but then…

Dean sighed and shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts from his pounding skull. Maybe he would smash a speaker or two... No. Had to focus on finding sasquatch.

He knew Sam was in here somewhere. After the fight Sam had left the motel room, those stupid puppy-dog eyes so full of defeat Dean almost gave in. He was too angry though. He was too sick and tired of all the shit Sam had been pulling lately.

Ruby. Demon blood. Saying he was a better hunter than Dean. Saying that Dean was holding him back.

He swallowed the resentment and anger as it threatened to make him walk back out the bar door. They had done this enough. Dean had done this enough.

In truth he knew that Sam was punishing himself way more than he should be already. Dean didn't need to tell him how disappointed he was, or that he didn't trust him, or that… Ugh, the thought made Dean cringe with regret. How could he say that to Sam?

_It means you're a monster_  
Really?! Sam. A monster?!

Every time he thought about it he wanted to punch himself in the face. Because he knew that not only was it one of the worst things he could have said to Sam, and that Sam didn't deserve it and it wasn't true, but on top of all that he knew that Sam really and truly worried about being a monster.

Sam. Puppy-dog eyed, feels bad about killing vampires that are about to rip your throat out, let's try talking first Sam. Monster just wasn't ever going to be in the description.

But Dean had gone and put it there. And no matter how much he wanted to he could never take it back, and now he could see it in Sam's face every time they fought. Sam gave up too easily now. Sure, they'd yell at each other. Sam, wasn't shy about his opinions. Now though, whenever Sam did something wrong, whenever Dean was really angry with him, he could just see the wheels turning in Sam's head.

_Monster_.

"Fuck..." Dean sighed, catching sight of Sam at the bar. The gigantic kid's back was to him, but he could see the bottle of Jack sitting half-empty on the bar top. Sam had picked up some of Dean's bad habits while Dean was down under. Since Dean had gotten back Sam didn't drink much, but every now and then Dean would come back from his own bar trip and Sam would be sleeping – more like passed out – with a bottle of some dark- or honey-colored liquor on the nightstand.

In general, he didn't ever really see Sam drunk. _This should be interesting_.

He moved quickly through the crowd of dancing people, arriving next to Sam a little bit more annoyed after being bumped and sandwiched by the raving idiots in this bar.

"Sam-" he clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam jerked with surprise, glancing up at him.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was thick with alcohol and even getting that one simple word out sounded like it took effort.

"Yeah, c'mon Sam let's go" Dean pulled lightly on Sam's shoulder.

"Why?" Sam huffed, "I'm doin' fine righ' here, thanks."

Dean raised his eyebrows, the big brother instinct kicking in as reaction to Sam's backtalk, "Sure ya are, but I say time to go, so let's go."

Sam shrugged Dean's hand off him, "I'm fine." He stared straight ahead, avoiding Dean's eyes, as he took a quick gulp from the bottle of Jack. Sam's voice was slurring, but it wasn't in the funny, happy-drunk Sam way that Dean was used to. Sam's voice was dark, hardened.

"Sam." Dean leaned over onto the bar so that he could see Sam's eyes, "Looks like you've had a lot, you're gonna be sick tomorrow and we need to get moving, so come on…" he gestured towards the exit.

"You keep the bottles all the time," Sam scoffed humorlessly.

"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged, "That's me. I've had practice."

Sam smiled wryly, raising his eyebrows in knowing, "I've been practicing," he said bluntly, taking another swig.

Dean took a breath, looking down. Some part of him – the part that wanted to drag Sam outta there by his collar – hated knowing how bitter Sam had become. How much innocence his little brother had lost, "Yeah, I know, Sam..." Dean's voice rang with regret.

Sam glanced up at that, but quickly resumed his staring contest with the bottles on the bar shelves across from them, "Just leave, Dean. Really. I'm fine. I'll be back in a while."

Okay, enough. Little brothers listen to their big brothers, and Sam was going to listen to him right now, "Sam," Dean jerked the collar of Sam's jacket, placing himself as much in front of Sam's face as possible. Sam met his eyes with some resentment, but he didn't try to push Dean away, "I'm serious. We are leaving. Now. Please." He added the last word for good measure. He didn't want to fight again, he just wanted to get back to the motel.

"You're drunk," he went on, "The motel is across town. I'm not letting you walk there wasted, and I'm not staying in this freakin' Barbie-girl, Cascada-loving bar."

Sam studied him for a minute, "How do you know who Cast…ca..ada is?" He asked finally.

Dean was caught by surprise, "Wh- I don't-" he fumbled over his words, "I just- Its… Look sometimes shitty music is catchy alright?!" he growled. Sam cracked a small smile. A real one for once, "Now can we please go?"

"Whatever…" Sam mumbled, sliding off the bar stool.

"Easy..." Dean grabbed one of Sam arms and shifted it over his shoulders. Good thing too since Sam almost immediately leaned too far to one side, forcing Dean to fight to keep them both upright, "Jeez, dude. Think you could lay off the workout routine for a while?"

Sam didn't reply. His movements were wobbly the whole way out of the bar. Dean was immeasurably grateful when he was able to lean Sam against the impala while he unlocked the doors.

Once the doors were unlocked he walked briskly back over to Sam to help him slide in the passenger seat.

"Dude, I can do it m'self!" Sam protested, while simultaneously grabbing for the door handle, missing it by a mile, and sending himself reeling forward towards the pavement.

"Obviously." Dean snorted, catching the oversized child under the arms and carefully helping him into the car.

**tbc**

_So I think there's gonna be a little follow-up chapter… probably gets a little darker. What do we think?_


	2. Chapter 2

Sam was quiet, staring out the window on the way back to the motel. Dean glanced over at his brother cautiously, only able to see his face when the street lamps illuminated Sam's reflection in the impala's window.

Dean wasn't sure what to expect from drunk Sam at this point. He had always been so used to Sam being a smiling, annoyingly happy drunk. He didn't know what to do about the new silent, angsty version.

The impala stopped with a small jerk. Dean thought for a moment about trying to talk to Sam here. The impala had always been a place they had common ground, and in all seriousness, it was the closest thing to a home they really knew.

His mind was made up for him though as he heard Sam's door creak open. He looked up, fairly certain he should be there to catch Sam again. Yep.

Dean watched as Sam stumbled out of the car, then as his gigantic little brother lost his footing and fell to his hands and knees.

"Fuck. Sam!" Dean hurried over to Sam, slamming the impala door loudly. He shuffled to a stop in front of Sam, kneeling down and grabbing one of his arms.

" 'm fine, Dean..." Sam grunted, attempting to brush Dean off.

"Dude, I'm not trying to baby you here," Dean assured him, keeping his grip on Sam's arm and lifting up, "But we have to face reality. And reality is you're wasted."

Sam gave him an incoherent glare, but didn't fight the help, "Whatever."

"Is that your new favorite word?" Dean smirked, throwing Sam's arm over his shoulders once again and beginning the swerving struggle towards the room. Sam's only response was a slight groan as he tripped over his own feet.

Dean slid the key into their room door while still trying to balance his brother's weight on his shoulders.

"Alright, here we go, Sammy..." Dean slid Sam's arm off him, making sure Sam was aimed at the bed and he fell on to the thin mattress, making the springs creak under his weight.

Dean kept his eyes on Sam as he walked over to the small fridge in the corner. He pulled a water bottle out and opened it with a light snap. Walking back over to Sam he held out the bottle.

Sam's head rolled to the side, his eyes washing over Dean, then following Dean's arm down to the water bottle. It took him a moment to understand what the water was for, but then he readily grabbed it and began to sip on the contents.

Dean settled onto his own bed, still watching his little brother.

Sam stopped drinking the water and he rested his head back onto his pillows, staring at the ceiling. His eyes were thoughtful and Dean could tell his mind was wandering... probably to places Sam shouldn't go.

Suddenly Sam's face changed. His jaw tightened and his eyes grew slightly glassy.

"Sam?"

Sam didn't look at him. Just kept starring at the ceiling. Dean's eyes scanned Sam's face, his eyebrows furrowed. Then his fears were confirmed as Sam's eyes snapped shut, forcing tears to slide down the sides of his face. Definitely places Sam shouldn't go.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was filled with concern. He leaned a little closer to Sam's bed, but Sam didn't open his eyes, "Sammy. Hey man c'mon…"

It was a weak attempt and he knew it, but he felt lost. He didn't know what might be going through Sam's head, but he knew that their fight earlier couldn't have helped. Sam began shaking his head, slowly, back and forth, back and forth. His expression grew more pained with each movement. Tears began to streak down his face more quickly.

"Sam, c'mon man, talk to me," Dean placed a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam drew a shaky breath and opened his eyes, still not looking at Dean, "Every time I look at the ceiling, I see them."

Dean didn't have to ask who "them" was. Mom and Jess. His chest tightened, remembering their mom, and remembering the night Jess had died.

"Every time… I…" Sam squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Sam. You did the best you could. You couldn't save Jess."

Sam's eyes finally opened and he turned his head towards Dean. Dean felt a lump catch in his throat seeing the sheer pain in his little brother's eyes, "That doesn't even matter..." Sam took a gulp of air, looking back at the ceiling. The tears seemed to dry up almost instantly, "I didn't just not save Jess - I _killed_ her. I _killed_ mom." Sam's face was stoney.

"Sam..." Goddammit Dean. _Monster_. Really?!

"Don't, Dean." Sam's voice was hard, strain etched in each word he spoke, "Don't try to defend me. You don't have to. You were right. Dad was right… The demons… Gordon… You're all right. There's evil in me."

"Sam-" Dean began to protest.

"No, Dean. Its ok. Really. I get it. It's true." The last two words sounded like they were scraping his teeth as he said them. Dean realized in horror just how much his brother hated himself at that moment, "I'm surprised more hunters haven't tried to come after me," Sam slurred.

"Stop. Stop it!" Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder firmly, "Listen to me, Sam. All those people – me included – were wrong."

Sam kept his eyes on the ceiling. The look on his face made Dean feel even more ashamed of their fight. Sam looked like he had given up feeling anything except hate for himself. Like he had truly accepted that he was somehow evil.

Why was he be surprised? If you tell someone anything enough times they're bound to believe it.

"You don't have to do that, Dean." Sam's voice was calm, cold, "You don't have to pretend. I get it, Dean. I mean, what else would you call the guy with demon blood in his system? The guy who drinks demon blood and lies about it, like a fucking junkie. Believe me, I get it."

"Sam," Dean ran a nervous hand through his hair. He knew Sam was only saying this stuff because he was wasted, but that didn't mean Sam didn't believe it. Just that, normally, Sam would never talk about it.

"Look" Dean started, "I should never have said what I said. We've both fucked up," he chuckled, "A lot. But Sam…" he struggled to find the right words, "You are not a… a monster."

Sam flinched slightly at the word, but a grim smile crossed his lips, his eyes still searching the ceiling, "That's exactly what I am, Dean."

"Sam-"

"No. Just listen to me. While you were gone, I stopped holding back," Dean clenched his jaw a little. Was Sam saying that Dean really did hold him back?

Sam looked over and must've understood what Dean was thinking. "Not like that..." he sighed, "I stopped holding back the… the evil… in me. I stopped caring who lived and died, I just killed anything that got in my way."

"Sam, you should never have had to go through that. It wasn't your fault."

Sam let out a harsh bark of laughter, "Dean, I didn't care about anything or anyone." He bit his lip, "I put a guy – a person - in the hospital, Dean!"

"What are you talkin' about, Sam?" Sometimes Sam equated not saving someone with hurting them. Dean hoped that's what he meant, but something about Sam's expression told him otherwise.

"Some guy outside a bar…" Sam started, "He was drunk, and I was…" Sam smirked, "Pretty much like now. He kept trying to start something, and I didn't do anything at first, but then… I wanted to fight. I wanted to hurt something. _Anything_. And…" Sam looked down, shame flashing in his eyes, "I went too far. I just… kept… hitting him…" More tears made their way down Sam's face.

Dean breathed in deeply, dropping his head, "Sam…"

Sam sat up slowly, pulling off his jacket and top shirt, "It's not even because of what everyone's been saying, Dean," Sam rested his elbows on his bent knees, running his hands through his hair. His body swayed slightly, "It's who I am."

Dean wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't believe Sam had actually snapped like that and hurt another person badly enough to send them to the ER...

Sam looked over at him - his eyes were puffy, and he just looked exhausted. Without another word, his little brother gave him a thin, bitter smile, before swaying again and falling backwards onto the bed, his eyes closed.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. His mind was racing, looking for some kind of resolution... He knew he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight.


End file.
